


20. Trembling

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [20]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Panic Attack, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: They don't have that talk, after all.





	20. Trembling

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/) for the beta!  
Follows [16\. Pinned Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691023).

After watching the ceiling for an hour, Frank got up and went back to the main room. He picked up the torn and dirty clothes he’d cut away from Red’s body, trashed it all along with the bloody gauze and the tape and the thread that were still on the floor. He put Red’s boots away, cleaned the floor, and when he got a whiff of his armpits he stuffed his own clothes in the hamper and went for a shower.

Then, Frank went to get some fresh clothes from the bedroom and looked at Red. He was still swaddled in the old blanket he’d given him the night before, only the top of his head and a shoulder peeking out. It was the arm the bullet had grazed, and the bandages wrapped around it were visible. A bit of blood had seeped through, but not much. It was fine. He was fine. Frank settled back on the bed with a book and waited for the morning, only getting up to make coffee and take it back to the bedroom.

When Red woke up, he was at first disoriented.

Frank watched him, saw the moment when it hit that he wasn’t in his own bed, that he was in an unfamiliar place.

“You’re in my bed,” he said.

Red relaxed under the blanket. “Oh.” He pulled the fleece down a bit and uncovered a spectacular bed head. “It smells like you.”

“That bad?”

“You smell fine, Frank. Like coffee and – oh, _shit_. What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.”

Red fought to get his arms out and almost fell from the bed. “Foggy’s going to kill me!”

“Called him.”

“What?”

“Called him, said you’re not coming in to work today.”

“But I can’t, I…”

Frank’s first instinct was to pin him down on the bed to stop him flailing like an idiot, but as last night had shown it would be a stupid move. He caught his arm instead, right under the bandages, and pulled him back down. “What do you remember from last night?”

“Uh…” Murdock blinked. “We got the cartel, I think? Yeah.” His hand flew to his arm. “There was some shooting, but we got them. Right?”

“Right.”

“Didn’t kill anyone, too. I’d remember.”

“No, they’re all alive.” The police had arrived after Red had made him call them, arrested the lot of the assholes. They’d get out soon enough, but now wasn’t the time for a debate with Mr. Lawyer.

“Why here, though? You’ve never taken me here before.”

“You were hurt.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t know where your stuff is at your place. Got everything I needed here.”

“I could have done it myself, you didn’t have to…”

“You couldn't. How would you have done those stitches on your arm?”

“I’d have managed.”

“Doubt it. How’s your head, Red?”

“My head?”

“You don’t remember last night, you were only half there, and now you’re making a face every time a car honks outside.”

“I’m fine.”

Yeah, right. “You hungry?” More face; he was nauseous. “Thought so. Don’t move.”

Murdock scowled, but he must have felt about as shitty as he looked because he didn’t try to leave the bed again. Frank went to the kitchen to get some crackers and a bottle of water, and set it all on the bed.

“Eat something, then I’ll lend you some clothes and drive you to your place.”

“Clothes?”

“Yours are in the trash.”

“But… oh. I don’t remember.” Which didn’t seem to worry him much.

“You were pretty out of it. Eat.”

Murdock picked up the crackers but didn’t open the pack, turning it in his hands. “You don't have to, you know.”

“Don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I mean… you don’t have to be… nice? To me.”

“You’d rather I’d left you to bleed out back there?”

“_No_, it’s just… thank you, Frank.” He put the crackers back on the bed. “I know we don’t, uh, do that. You don’t have to drive me anywhere, I can just take a cab or something.”

“A cab? With what money? Do you even know where _here_ is?”

Red’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer.

“Yeah. Eat, it’ll help.”

Frank left him nibbling on a cracker and went to turn the TV on in the next room. The noise would piss Murdock off, and provide Frank with some distraction while he thought.

They never had that conversation, after all. Red claimed he didn’t remember anything between the fight and waking up in Frank’s bed, and he talked so much about stupid shit the rest of the time that Frank couldn’t ever find a way to demand answers. What skyscraper, why had he been under it, how had he survived, was he aware of any lingering issues? No. It was all, _law law blah justice fairness_, or _redemption, Frank _and_ second chances, Frank_ and _what about your future, Frank_. As if the goddamn idiot ever seemed to consider his own.

So things went on as they had before, new scars on Murdock’s skin and all. Frank was extra careful not to trap him ever, they started leaving a change or two of clothes at each other's place for purely practical purposes for after a mission, and that was all.

It could have continued for a long time, except of course one night they hid in dusty, dirty portable offices from the crazy asshole who was after them. The construction site was full of heavy vehicles and all the crap they used to build shit, and that guy decided to ram his truck into the flimsy walls. He saw it coming, Frank did, but there was nothing he could have done. Not then. They were caught, they were _trapped_, and all they could do was huddle under a table and hope it was sturdy enough.

The noise was deafening when the portable collapsed; metal and plastic groaning and shrieking, throwing them left and right, up and down; it was terrifying. Frank was man enough to admit it. When everything finally stopped moving, he saw they’d managed to end up under two former slabs of steel. Maybe roof, maybe walls; anyway they’d kept them safe.

“We’re good,” he said. They’d have to figure out how to get out, but their little alcove looked sturdy enough for now. “We’re… Red. Shit.”

Red was curled in on himself, and from what little Frank could tell he was trembling.

“Red. Murdock.” No answer. “Murdock, you with me?”

There was a bit of light coming in, probably from the street lamps around the portable. Meant they weren't buried too deep, which was good. The light was enough to see Red’s shoulders curl in, but what was worse was the sounds he was making. The wheezing, the gasps, the panicked noises.

“Shit. Red, do you hear me?”

Murdock shook his head.

“We’re good, we’re safe. It’s not going to move any more, yeah?” No answer, not that Frank expected any. “I’m going to take your mask away. Ready?” He didn’t wait for a reply, and just tore it off and stuffed it in his pocket for later. Red’s mouth was open; he was panting. “Give me your hand, Red. Come on, give me your hand.” He wouldn’t, but forcing him wouldn’t end well. “Okay, fine. Can you hear me breathing? Can you follow me? Slow, Red, nice and slow; in and out, yeah?”

He choked and wheezed and shook, but finally his trembling got better. He was breathing more than gasping, now. “I’m here,” he finally said. “I’m here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” They needed to get out before the truck asshole decided to make absolutely sure they were dead and rammed them again or set them on fire. Which… fuck. Of course he would. That was what Frank would do. Frank looked up and tried to budge the sheet of metal over them, and it creaked and shuddered when he shoved at it but it was stuck.

“Red, any ideas?”

If he had one, Frank never got it. There was a loud crashing noise and they were suddenly jolted out of their nook by a great big shift in the pile of rubble they were caught in, and then everything started to slide down. Frank only had time to take Red’s arm and pull him along as he jumped out from under a falling sheet of metal, and he kept on dodging and falling more than running until they were clear of the debris. They ended up hidden in a dark alley behind the construction site, on the other side of the destroyed offices from the truck. Frank looked around the corner, and he saw the asshole was now driving his truck over what was left of the portable offices. It lasted only a few more minutes, and when he was done he poured gasoline all over it and set fire to it, screaming all the while.

“He thinks he got us. We’re good, Red.”

But Red was quiet. Frank looked to his side and yes, he was there, but he was not _all_ there. His lips were moving as if talking, but he was silent.

“Red, talk to me.”

No answer. They shouldn’t stay there; someone was bound to see the flames and call the fire department. They couldn't be found there.

“We have to leave.” He gave him back his mask. “Can you run?”

That got Frank a jerky nod, and they escaped.

They managed to get away before the sirens got too close. All the way back to Murdock’s apartment he kept silent, but Frank didn’t push it. He wanted them to be inside before saying anything. Once the roof door closed behind them, however, Red sort of folded down on the stairs like his strings had been cut. He sat there, head against the wall, and didn’t seem to be in any mind to move.

“Let’s get down, yeah?” Frank, for a moment, forgot. He was tired, he’d had a shitty night, he had almost died in the worst sort of building ever made by mankind, and so he didn’t think. He grabbed Murdock’s arm and slung it over his shoulder, wrapped his own around Red, lifted, started to go down the stairs, and then all hell broke loose. Again.

Red screamed. He kneed Frank in the gut then tried to throw him down; he fought like a demon except his fists shook too hard, his balance was all shot, and at last Frank managed to catch a wrist and pull him down to the landing before letting him go and stepping back.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not. I’m five feet away from you, you’re good.”

“Don’t – I’ll fight you!”

“I know. I know, Red. I’m not touching you.”

Frank watched him tear his mask off with shaky hands, then start on the ropes. He couldn’t get a grip on them; his fingers just couldn’t grab anything. Murdock backed into the wall and slid down until he was sitting, wrists dangling from his knees; his folded legs were the last barrier he could put up between himself and the rest of the world. He was breathing too fast; Frank could see his chest heaving in the harsh light of the one working bulb he’d just switched on.

“I can help you, Red. Just say the word.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Fine. We need to wash off the dust and debris, trash our clothes.” And he’d have to do some serious, deep cleaning of the guns he’d been carrying, too. Frank didn’t like talking all that much, not like Murdock did, but he was creeped out by how quiet Red was now. It was usually him filling the silence, not Frank, but now it felt like the only thing keeping Red here was Frank’s voice. He was listening, Frank could tell from the angle of his head; he was listening and picking at the ropes again but not getting anywhere.

“I can’t.” Red finally admitted it: progress.

“I’ll do it for you.” Red shook his head and curled in a little more, and Frank’s frustration sky-rocketed.

“You should go,” the damn idiot even said.

“Go? _Go?_” Frank squatted in front of Red. “Give me one of your fucking hands and I’ll take your stupid ropes off, okay?” He was pissed now. They needed to clean up, check what wounds they had – Frank knew he had some bad scrapes and at least one cut that felt deep, and he doubted Red had fared much better – and stop this goddamn standoff they had going on. He held out his own hand and waited.

It took way too long, but Red finally peeled a hand off of his thigh and moved it out slightly in Frank’s direction. “Kay,” he said into his knees.

So Frank got to work; he carefully undid the knots of rope while making sure he wasn’t ever squeezing Murdock, then left the coiled rope next to the wall. He moved on to the other hand when Red held it out, never commenting on the tremors still running through; then he asked if he could untie the laces on his boots. He kept talking about everything and nothing; _Shouldn’t you change those ropes?_ and _This one is really frayed_ and _I’ve never seen knots like that_ and all kinds of meaningless shit to keep Murdock with him.

“Think you can stand up?” Frank asked when he was done. “We’re covered in shit, we should wash it off. Could be toxic.” Red shrugged. “I worked in construction, I saw the kind of crap they put in there. Come on, take my wrists, I’ll pull you up. Don’t make me knock you out, yeah?”

“M’not afraid of you.”

“I know you’re not. Take my wrists, now.”

After maybe a minute, he did; Frank put his own hands under Red’s arms and managed to get him upright. He wasn’t too steady, and Frank helped him with the rest of his gear too – the thigh holster for his batons, his shirt… everything.

They ended up together in a shower that wasn’t meant for two grown men, but Murdock was leaning on him and Frank was pretty sure if he stepped out Red would just collapse and stay there until and even after the spray turned cold. The water was running dark from blood and dust, but after a while he could see there was no worrying injury on either of them. Cuts, scrapes, huge bruises, but it didn’t look like anything was broken or too deep.

Red was getting heavier; it felt like most of his weight was on Frank. It was time to get out from under the water; he didn’t want Red to start trembling again if they were suddenly doused in cold water. Once they were dry and they’d bandaged the wounds most likely to bleed, Frank steered them to the bedroom. Red put on a thin shirt and some light sleep pants and stretched out on top of the bed.

“It’s not warm enough for that. Get under the covers.”

“No.”

Frank sighed and slid in the bed on his side. Not that he _had_ a side: it was just the side Murdock was not currently on. “It’s cold.”

“You’re staying?”

“What does it look like?”

“I’m not afraid,” Red said.

“Who the fuck said you were?”

“I…”

“You got the shakes. It happens. We got out, we’re fine. That’s what matters. Understand?”

“And you’re staying?”

“What, you want to throw me out?”

Red started to move; he turned on his side and inched closer to Frank and ended with a hand on Frank's chest. “…no?”

Frank thought back on the night. Hiding in the portable offices had almost killed them, after all. “I was afraid,” he finally said. “The noise, everything falling down. Can’t imagine what it’s like when it’s a skyscraper.”

Murdock kept silent for a while, probably processing Frank knew about Midland Circle. “I wasn’t alone.”

“We weren’t alone today either.”

It took him half an hour but Red finally got under the covers, and when Frank fell asleep Murdock was plastered all along his side. Frank would wake up with a dead arm, but it was worth it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Trembling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24391894) by [Metaderivative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metaderivative/pseuds/Metaderivative)


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